Archie silenced them again. “The ugly part of it is that he must have
had this up his sleeve for years. He must have known when he was asked
to succeed my father what use he meant to make of his opportunity. What
he’s doing isn’t the result of a hasty conclusion: it means years of
work and preparation.”
Archie broke off to explain himself. He had returned from Europe the
week before, and had learned on arriving that Dredge’s lectures were
stirring the world of science as nothing had stirred it since Lanfear’s
“Utility and Variation.” And the incredible outrage was that they owed
their sensational effect to the fact of being an attempted refutation of
Lanfear’s great work.
I own that I was staggered: the case looked ugly, as Archie said. And
there was a veil of reticence, of secrecy, about Dredge, that always
kept his conduct in a half-light of uncertainty. Of some men one would
have said off-hand: “It’s impossible!” But one couldn’t affirm it of
him.
Archie hadn’t seen him as yet; and Mrs. Lanfear had sent for me because
she wished me to be present at the interview between the two men. The
Lanfear ladies had a touching belief in Archie’s violence: they thought
him as terrible as a natural force. My own idea was that if there were
any broken bones they wouldn’t be Dredge’s; but I was too curious as to
the outcome not to be glad to offer my services as moderator.
First, however, I wanted to hear one of the lectures; and I went the
next afternoon. The hall was jammed, and I saw, as soon as Dredge
appeared, what increased security and ease the interest of his public
had given him. He had been clear the year before, now he was also
eloquent. The lecture was a remarkable effort: you’ll find the gist of
it in Chapter VII of “The Arrival of the Fittest.” Archie sat at my
side in a white rage; he was too clever not to measure the extent of the
disaster. And I was almost as indignant as he when we went to see Dredge
the next day.
I saw at a glance that the latter suspected nothing; and it was
characteristic of him that he began by questioning me about my finds,
and only afterward turned to reproach Archie for having been back a week
without notifying him.
“You know I’m up to my neck in this job. Why in the world didn’t you
hunt me up before this?”
The question was exasperating, and I could understand Archie’s stammer
of wrath.
“Hunt you up? Hunt you up? What the deuce are you made of, to ask me
such a question instead of wondering why I’m here now?”
Dredge bent his slow calm scrutiny on his friend’s quivering face; then
he turned to me.
“What’s the matter?” he said simply.
“The matter?” shrieked Archie, his clenched fist hovering excitedly
above the desk by which he stood; but Dredge, with unwonted quickness,
caught the fist as it descended.
“Careful--I’ve got a _Kallima_ in that jar there.” He pushed a chair
forward, and added quietly: “Sit down.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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